


Christmas Carols

by shishcabob22



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Christmas fic, Dean Winchester Has Nightmares, Dean Winchester Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Jody and the girls, Parental Jody Mills, Season 14 Speculation, Tired Dean Winchester, Trauma, Worried Sam Winchester, post-Michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-07-15 19:29:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16069775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shishcabob22/pseuds/shishcabob22
Summary: Sam and Dean end up spending Christmas with Jody and the girls this year. Sounds perfect, but Dean's traumatized like he hasn't been since hell and Sam's more worried than ever. A perfect excuse to take a few days off in Sioux Falls, right?





	1. I'll Be Home for Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Ok I know what you're thinking. Why aren't I working on my S9 fics??? Well I just realized that we have like two weeks before SPN S14, which is AWESOME, but I really wanted to get this side project out before then. I hope it'll tide you over until I can get my next installment out!

Sam ran his hand through his hair, squinting at the letters on the screen in front of him. He sighed and pushed the laptop away. Things were annoyingly quiet right now, and even if they weren't, he couldn't focus. Plus, he had Dean to worry about.

Glancing at the calendar on the kitchen wall, Sam sighed again. December 23. It had been a while since either of them had felt the need to celebrate any holiday, but Sam didn't think it could hurt. At this point, he was willing to try anything.   
But then, he wasn't sure that either of them really knew how to celebrate anything any more.

Now there was a depressing thought.

Dean stumbled into the room, pulling Sam from his thoughts. Despite the near ten hours of sleep he'd gotten last night, his brother still looked exhausted, but at least a little color had returned to his face. It had only been a little over two weeks since they got Dean back, and Sam shuddered at the memory of his brother collapsing--cold, pale, and unresponsive--into his arms. Dean hadn't woken up for five days after that.

"Hey," Dean muttered, voice gravely. He sat down across from Sam, sending a confusingly hopeful yet dreading look at the laptop. "Find anything?"

"Nah, it's pretty quiet right now." Sam was glad he didn't have to lie. He wasn't completely sure he could pull that off right now. But then again, Dean was probably out of it enough that he was wouldn't notice.

He gave Dean a quick once over. He had dark bruises under his eyes, and he was gaunt and scruffy in a way he hadn't been since...well, it brought back unpleasant memories of the year and a half Dean had carried the burden of the Mark.

Sam had only brought up Michael once since Dean came back, asking if he remembered anything. All he got in answer was a haunted look that revealed a soul far too old for its body. He decided not to push until his brother looked a little better on the physical front. Until every moment Dean didn't spend asleep wasn't spent staring out into nothing or sitting alone in the garage.

Sam stood up quickly, making Dean jump a little. Sam flinched inwardly, but knew apologizing would only embarrass the older hunter. "You want some breakfast?" he asked instead.

Dean looked up at Sam, then looked away. "Uh, yeah, sure," he said, sounding like it was the last thing he wanted.

_Well, too bad,_ Sam thought. At this point, he wasn't above force feeding his brother.

He considered his options, then decided pancakes were his best bet. One of Dean's favorites, and easy to refrigerate if they didn't finish everything. He seemed to be refrigerating food a lot more often since Dean got back.

As Sam was working on breakfast, Dean pulled over the computer, probably half-heartedly checking for any cases in the area. Dean's voice made him glance up. "Almost Christmas."

Sam could tell it was supposed to be a passing remark, but it wasn't hard to see through. "Yeah," he replied, unable to think of a better response.

"You got any plans?"

At this point, Sam really couldn't tell whether Dean was joking. Just as he opened his mouth to respond, his phone rang. He abandoned his project and answered it on the third ring. "Hello?"

"Hey, Sam, it's Jody."

"Jody?" Sam asked, sending a surprised look towards his brother. Dean raised his eyebrows. "Um, hey, it's good to hear from you. What's going on?"

"Oh, not much. How are you and Dean?"

Sam heard the underlying accusation and winced. In the chaos of the last two weeks, he'd forgotten to spread the word that they'd gotten Dean back, which meant Jody heard it from someone else. Oh yeah, she was definitely pissed.

"We're alright. How about you? And the others?"

"We're good, you know, just getting ready for Christmas. You boys have any plans?"

"Uh, no, not really."

"Great!" Sam could practically hear Jody beaming over the phone. "You should come up to our place for the holidays. Everyone's gonna be here, and the girls are dying to see you."

Sam glanced at Dean, who was hunched over a cup of coffee in a wrinkled flannel and jeans, which he probably slept in. A few days of mother-henning from Jody and pop-culture arguments with the Claire sounded...nice. Normal. God knew Dean could use some of that.

"Sounds great, Jody. I guess we'll see you soon."

They ended their call, and Dean gave him a questioning look. Sam smiled back. "I guess we have plans now."


	2. God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title's a bit on the nose ;)

Dean had insisted on driving at least halfway, and Sam grudgingly let him. When they arrived at Jody's Sam was behind the wheel, but Dean still looked about ready to pass out. Sam glanced at his brother worriedly as he hauled himself out of the car, but didn't say anything.

Snow crunched beneath their feet as the brothers walked up to the door. Sam noticed a string of Christmas lights decorating the porch railing, and a wreath hung cheerily on the door. Sam reached up to knock, but before he could touch the polished wood, the door opened. Jody stood in the entrance and immediately pulled Sam into a hug. Sam let himself lean into it for a moment, allowing all the stress and exhaustion of the last few months overwhelm him. Then he pulled himself together and stepped back.

"It's good to see you. Hey, thanks for having us over," Sam said.

"Of course. Didn't want you boys spending the holidays all alone in that big bunker, anyways." She looked around Sam and locked eyes with Dean, who smiled wearily at her from where he was leaning against the doorway. Jody wasted no time in going over to hug him.

"It's good to have you back, Dean," Jody said.

"It's good to be back." Dean pulled away, and the three of them walked into the house.

"Claire! Alex! Look what the cat dragged in," Jody called through the house. It didn't take long for Claire to come barreling down the hallway, immediately launching herself onto Dean. He stumbled back in surprise, then held her tightly. Once she stepped back, she struggled to regain her composure for a moment, then said fiercely, "Don't ever do that again."

"Wasn't planning on it," Dean said, grinning cheekily.

Alex entered the room soon after, and they exchanged hugs. Then Dean was bribed into the living room with the promise of Die Hard, and Sam was left alone with Jody in the front hallway.

Jody leaned into the doorway to make sure Dean and the girls were occupied, then looked back at Sam. "How is he, really?"

"Honestly?" Sam sighed. "Not great. I'm hoping a couple days up here with you guys might do him some good."

"Well, then I hope so too." Sam nodded and started towards the living room, but Jody grabbed his arm. "Hey. How are you doing?"

Sam glanced back over at Dean, who was busy trying to show Alex how to make popcorn "the right way", but the lines on his face told a different story from the grin he wore. He gave Jody a small smile. "Mostly, I'm just tired, you know? Not even just of-of trying to find Dean when he was... I'm tired of all of this. Watching my brother... he's just been through so much, you know?"

Jody squeezed his elbow. "You both have. Come on, let's go help Dean before he breaks the microwave."

Sam and Jody had settled in with the others who had already started the movie. Claire was lazily throwing pieces of popcorn at Dean and Alex, the latter of which disgustedly brushed them off while the former threw them back. Normally Jody would make them stop, but she didn't see the harm in it. She'd just make Claire vacuum later.

Dean paused his popcorn war to look around and ask, "Hey, is Donna coming over later?"

"Yup," Jody said. "Should be here in a few hours. Patience is with her dad, but she promised she'd stop by on Christmas."

Sam had forgotten about the newest addition to Jody's home. All he knew about Patience was that she was Missouri's granddaughter and a psychic. He was curious to meet her. But when he glanced over at Dean, his brother looked less than excited. He didn't understand for a moment. Then it hit him.

_Of course he doesn't want a psychic around. He can't even talk to me about Michael; why would he want some teenage girl digging around up there?_

Dean covered it well--he stole the bowl of popcorn, playfully suspending Claire's ammunition--but Sam knew the last thing Dean wanted was to meet Patience.

Once the movie ended, Jody wasted no time in ushering the two of them into the guest room, where she had thoughtfully set up two beds. Dean argued that they should at least wait for Donna, but Jody shot him down. It was only 9:00, but Sam was grateful for the excuse. He was wiped out and he knew Dean was too.

As soon as they were alone, Dean seemed to slouch a bit more, the lines on his face becoming more prominent. He didn't even bother taking off his boots before collapsing on the bed nearest the door.

Sam sent him a worried glance as he gathered up his things on the way to the shower. He considered throwing himself down on his bed and passing out like Dean had, but decided at least one of them should get cleaned up. He did remove his brother's boots before leaving the room, though.

* * *

_Dean was is Purgatory, or at least, what looked like Purgatory. He wasn't running, because there weren't any monsters to run from. There was only an angel, and there was no running from him.  
_

_Purgatory was the only peace Michael allowed him, and it was a peace that rarely came. He knew it meant something was happening, that Michael was doing something that required all his focus. That was never a good thing._

_Suddenly Dean was ripped from Purgatory, whiplash making his vision spin as he was snapped into his own body. He struggled to comprehend where he was, to do anything, but he couldn't move._

_That's when he noticed the woman who's life was burning out right in front of him._

_Dean fought harder, scrambling to maintain some form of control, but nothing worked. He couldn't stop Michael._

_He never could._

_In what felt like an eternity but was in actuality a few meager seconds, the woman crumpled to the ground. Michael slowly looked up, and Dean would've fallen to his knees if he could have._

_Bodies littered the room. Some were smited, some clearly killed with an blade or knife. There were easily a dozen, maybe two._

_Images flashed before Dean's eyes as Michael pulled him back in, casting him into the darkest abyss of his own mind. He saw himself, kneeling and covered in blood, the Mark glowing brightly on his arm. He heard Alastair whispering in his ear, guiding his hand as he cut into the souls of the damned. He felt Sam's fist crash into his face, the smell of demon blood sitting thick and heavy in the air._

_The whirlwind of memories pulled him in every direction until he finally stopped, and Dean found himself standing in a room that was cloaked in shadow._

_Michael stood across from him, wearing his old vessel. This was how Michael always appeared in his mind, for some reason._

_"Dean, Dean, Dean. You never stop fighting, do you?"_

_"No, and I never will," Dean said, but his voice was shaking and he knew it._

_"Why not? There's nothing you can do. Why even bother fighting at all?"_

_Dean looked the archangel right in the eyes. "Because you don't want me to."_

_Michael's eyes narrowed, and a flame seemed to kindle deep within them. Dean stood his ground._

_But to the hunter's surprise, Michael turned and began walking away. "It doesn't matter. You'll give in soon enough." And then Michael lifted his hand and snapped his fingers._

_Pain unlike anything Dean had ever experienced erupted everywhere, like hellfire was burning him from the inside out. He tried to scream, but no noise came out. All he could think of was the woman, of all the others, and **this is how it must've felt when she died**  and **you weren't strong enough--**_

* * *

Dean gasped awake, breathing hard. It was dark out now, and Sam slept deeply in the bed next to him.

He took a moment to orient himself, focus on his surroundings. Dean pointedly thought about anything and everything other than his dream.

He looked over to check the time on the digital clock resting innocently on the nightstand. 3:42. Dean figured almost seven hours of sleep was more than enough. He rolled out of bed, belatedly realizing that his boots were lined up neatly next to the door instead of on his feet. Dean shook his head. Typical Sam.

The older hunter walked through the hallways, shivering slightly. He felt like he was being watched, like Michael could step out of a shadow any time now, setting him ablaze and laughing as he burned...

Dean eventually found himself in Jody's kitchen. He wouldn't take any of Jody's hard liquor; that stuff was expensive. But he needed a beer at the very least.

He took a beer from the fridge, then sat at the kitchen island, staring at his unopened bottle without really seeing it. Dean heard footsteps approaching, and fully expected Sam to enter--his brother seemed to have developed a sixth sense for his distress--but instead Jody came in, sleepily rubbing her hand through her hair.

She went over to the fridge and pulled out a carton of orange juice, seemingly unaware of his presence. Dean remained still, half hoping she hadn't seen him. Instead, she grabbed a glass and took the seat next to him. "Can't sleep?" she asked nonchalantly. He grunted in acknowledgement.

Jody took a sip of her orange juice, sighed. "Yeah, me neither."

Dean gave her a questioning look.

"Sometimes it just gets to me, you know? The stress, the horror...just the job, really. Couple days ago worked a case--wasn't even a hunt. A little boy showed up at the local library, covered in blood. He wouldn't say a damn thing when he was brought to the station, but we found out he was a foster kid. We figured out who was fostering him and...people can be really sick." Jody ran a weary hand down her face. "You know how it is."

Dean laughed softly, but it came out more bitter than he'd intended. "Yeah."

There was a stretch of comfortable but expectant silence, like Jody was waiting for him to elaborate. Dean didn't say anything.

Jody polished off her glass and gestured at his beer. "You gonna finish that?"

Dean blinked, realizing that the beer still rested in his hand, growing warmer by the minute. "No, I guess not."

She took the bottle and put it back in the fridge before going over to the coffee maker and putting a pot on. Dean raised an eyebrow at her. Jody shrugged. "I figure neither of us are getting any more sleep tonight, so why not? Now," she said, resting her elbows on the counter next to him. "How about you tell me how you are?"

"Jody, I'm fine," Dean said wearily.

"Dean, you're sitting in my kitchen at four in the morning and you've barely said a word. You aren't fine."

He scrubbed a hand through his hair. "What do you want me to say? I'm handling it."

"That's just the thing," Jody said, suddenly looking years older. "You don't have to handle it alone, Dean."

Dean remained silent.

"Look, I can't pretend to know anything about what you're going through, but if you need to talk, you come to me. Alright?"

"Yes, ma'am," Dean said, giving her a cheap imitation of his usual smirk. She lightly slapped the back of his head, pretending not to notice.

Soon the coffee was done, and Jody poured them each a mug. They stayed there until dawn, taking solace in the feel of each other's company.


	3. Hark! The Herald Angels Sing

Sam woke with a start at exactly 8:30, knowing with sudden certainty that Dean was no longer in the room. A glance at his brother's bed confirmed his suspicions.

His first instinct was to panic, but he immediately pushed the feeling away. There was no reason to believe Dean hadn't just gone to use the bathroom or watch TV. Sam stubbornly ignored the fact that Dean hadn't gotten up before nine since... since.

Sam climbed out of bed, not bothering to change from his pajamas. He walked quickly through the house, checking every open room but generally heading toward the front door, almost certain he would find his brother sleeping in the impala. He let out a breath of relief when he found Dean sitting on the living room couch instead, nursing a mug of coffee.

Dean looked up at Sam's entrance, hair mussed and eyes shadowed. Sam tried not to stare. "Well good morning to you, too."

Sam jumped a little. "Uh," he managed before stopping to clear his voice. "Yeah. Um. Good morning."

Dean nodded at the kitchen. "Want some coffee?" Sam looked over to see Jody cradling her own mug with one hand while holding a frying pan in the other. As if on cue, Jody looked over her shoulder and said, "Breakfast'll be ready in a minute, boys."

"You need any help with that?" Sam called. He fully expected Dean to make some offhanded comment about having Sam anywhere near the kitchen. Instead the pause stretched on just a beat too long before Jody politely declined his offer.

Sam lowered himself onto the couch next to his brother, some of his not-so-early morning energy already lost. He tried for a subtle glance at Dean, who was seemingly entranced by the Charlie Brown Christmas Special. Sam's heart sank when he recognized the look in Dean's eyes--the new one that meant he wasn't really _there_. The one that was slowly and frighteningly becoming more and more familiar.

"Come and get it!" Jody yelled. Sam shook himself from his thoughts and turned to nudge Dean, only to see his brother already making his way through the kitchen door. Sam quickly followed him.

Sam didn't realize how hungry he was until he tucked into his eggs, pancakes, and orange juice with gusto. As he ate, Alex breezed through the room, grabbing some toast and coffee before heading off to the library to study for a nursing school midterm. Based on Jody's fond head shake, this wasn't an unusual occurrence.

Sam was just polishing off his eggs when he noticed Dean staring out the window at the snow drifting lazily down, barely touching his food. Sam swallowed, the eggs turning to ash in his mouth. He reached over and nudged his big brother's elbow. Dean blinked and looked over at Sam, features difficult to interpret. Sam raised an eyebrow and nodded down at Dean's plate, which had the expected assortment of carbs and grease. Dean glanced down confusedly, as if he wasn't exactly sure what Sam wanted him to do with the food. Sam leaned in a little and quietly commanded, "Eat."

Dean's eyes narrowed for a second, then he glanced over at Jody, who was mixing some kind of batter on the counter. He finally nodded at Sam in understanding.

Sam sat back in his chair, relieved that he hadn't had to make a scene--but he had the feeling that Dean's cooperation had more to do with the fact that Jody was in the room than his own efforts. At this point, he didn't care how it happened or how disgusted Dean seemed to be with the prospect of eating these days; Dean needed to get his strength back. The rest could come later.

A little while later Sam became aware of someone trudging into the kitchen and he turned, expecting to see Claire. He was more surprised than he should've been when Donna entered the room, stretching and yawning hugely. She blinked and did a double take when she saw the brothers. "Sam! Dean! It's good to see ya!"

Sam walked over and gave Donna a hug. "Good to see you too, Donna." Dean abandoned his breakfast eagerly and stood up, but before he could make another move Donna rushed over and crushed him into a bear hug. Dean smiled a little sadly before stepping back.

Donna put her hands on her hips and smiled brightly at the two of them. "I got here a little late last night, sorry about that. Jody tells me you two conked out kinda early, so I figured I'd just say hi in the morning!"

Sam laughed a bit at Donna's cheery tone. "Yeah, no problem."

Jody ushered her friend over to a chair at the table and handed her a plate full of food, and Claire chose that exact moment to enter. Sam expected her to look as though she had just rolled out of bed--that had been the norm the last time the brothers had stayed with Jody and the girls. Surprisingly, she looked ready for the day, although Sam couldn't say he approved of her green-and-red knitted wool sweater. Dean apparently agreed, as he scoffed, "What's that? You going for a Home Alone vibe or something?"

Claire smirked at him. "Sorry. I was browsing for the old geezer look, but they were all out of stock. Guess you must've bought them out."

Dean rolled his eyes dramatically and Sam became painfully aware of the sweats and old "Back to the Future" t-shirt he was wearing.

"So," Claire said as she plopped down at the table. "What's the plan for today?"

"As if you don't know," Jody chortled while serving Claire some bacon. "We can't have Christmas without a tree. We're gonna meet Alex at the Glenn Christmas Farm this afternoon to pick one out." She glanced over at Sam and Dean, who had yet to sit back down. "You guys wanna come, or...?"

Sam was about to protest; it sounded like fun, but Dean looked like he could sleep for a week. Dean jumped in before he could utter a word. "Sounds like a swell idea."

Jody and Donna simultaneously raised their eyebrows and looked at Sam. Sam shrugged and nodded. If Dean wanted to go, then they'd go. That's just how things were going to be.

Dean made his excuses and exited the kitchen. Sam turned to follow him, but not before he noticed Jody clearing Dean's mostly-full plate from the table with a worried look on her face.

* * *

Sam reluctantly got into the passenger seat of the car. He had been pushing Dean to let him drive, but Dean had argued that he could handle fifteen minutes behind the wheel. Sam only backed off because he knew how relaxing driving was for Dean, and he wasn't going to take that away from him. But there was no way in hell Sam wasn't driving back.

Dean put the car into gear, and slush splashed from beneath the wheels as he backed out of the driveway. The impala trailed after Jody's sheriff cruiser, heading straight out of town. Soon the buildings became fewer and farther between until they were surrounded completely by pine trees blanketed in snow.

The interior of the car was quiet except for the rhythmic noise of wipers brushing snow off the windshield. Sam could physically feel the absence of the radio playing. In fact, he didn't think Dean had played his music in the car once since he'd gotten back. The realization hit him like a blow.

Sam stared openly at his brother. It was obvious that Dean had transitioned from sleeping too much, to sleeping too little. The bags under his eyes were more pronounced, his face a little more worn. So maybe he just wasn't sleeping peacefully, then. All things considered, Sam should've seen that coming.

Dean eventually realized he was being watched, and flicked his eyes from the road to his brother and back again. "What?"

Sam opened his mouth, then closed it again. He leaned over so his elbow pressed against the window. "Dean, man... You gotta talk to me."

Dean's hands tightened on the wheel. "There's nothing to talk about."

Sam straightened and faced his brother. "Dean, there can't _not_ be something eating at you right now. And if anyone's gonna be able to understand what you're going through, it's me. Whatever the issue is, we can figure it out," he said, voice as strong as he was capable of making it.

Dean clenched his jaw, then relaxed. He looked over at Sam, and that strange, hollow look crept into his eyes again. "Sammy, I can't... Even if I wanted to, I... I don't know how."

Sam felt his resolve drain away as quickly as it had come. What was he saying? He didn't know how to fix this. Neither of them had been through anything remotely like this. Sure, he'd been possessed by Lucifer, but only for a few days before he'd been tossed into the Pit, which kind of made everything else seem hazy and insignificant. Then there'd been Gadreel, but he'd been a normal angel, and Sam hadn't even been aware that he'd been possessed. What Dean had gone through...as far as Sam could tell, Dean was the only archangel vessel to come out the other side relatively sane.

Or at all.

Dean was facing the road again, and silence had settled back over the car. Sam watched the snowflakes dance and twirl around the car, unaware of the turmoil in the world they occupied.

"We'll figure it out," Sam murmured.

Dean didn't say anything.


	4. Winter Wonderland

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter four! I hope you guys are enjoying reading this as much as I enjoy writing it :). Please please please let me know what you think in the comments below (any and all feedback is appreciated and very good for my motivation).
> 
> As usual, italics are thoughts, memories, or stress on words...I guess try to figure it out from context (plz let me know if u can't I'll try to fix it).

The hinges on the door creaked as Dean slammed it closed. The cold bit at the skin on his face and hands, but it was refreshing, in a way. Dean breathed in deep, slowly turning to take in the acres of evergreen trees stretching out in every direction.

Snow crunched as Sam joined him outside the only building in sight: a small log cabin with a sign hanging next to the door reading "Glenn's Christmas trees." Jody, Donna, Claire and Alex were already inside. Dean decided he preferred to stay out in the snow, surrounded by the muffled quiet one can only truly achieve in the winter.

The brothers stood in the parking area in a comfortable silence. There was only one other car besides Jody's sheriff cruiser and the impala, and it was one of those old soccer-mom mini vans. Dean found himself morbidly transfixed by its disgusting shade of purple until the door to the cabin swung open and the four women exited, followed by a scruffy-but-friendly looking young man.

The burly man came up and stuck out his hand to shake Sam's, then Dean's. "Hi, I'm Nick Glenn. My folks own this farm, but the Mills family has been coming here to pick out trees since before I can remember. Jody tells me you're family friends?"

Sam smiled back. "Yeah. I'm Sam, this is my brother Dean."

Nick nodded. "Good to meet you." He gestured at Jody. "The sheriff here knows how this works. Just gimme a call when you've found the one you want and I'll come pick it up for you."

"Thanks Nick," Jody called as Nick headed back toward the cabin. Nick waved in acknowledgement, and the hunters began making their way through the rows upon rows of Christmas trees.

As the group trudged through the snow, Dean lagged behind little by little. The girls' banter was overcome by a thick, heavy silence that he could practically feel. The trees around him seemed to blur and darken, twisting until they were crooked shadows of what they were.

Dean didn't notice he'd stopped until he looked down and saw that his feet were no longer moving. Distantly he thought he should catch up, but the transformation of his surroundings quickly cast those thoughts from his mind.

Purgatory.

The only peace he was ever allowed.

The peace that never lasted.

Sam and the others faded from sight, replaced by the endless forest where one was either the hunter or the hunted. Only something was different.

He was alone.

_He shouldn't be alone._

Suddenly, Dean's vision shifted and brightened, and he flinched against the inevitable onslaught of pain and suffering that surely awaited him. When there was no blood coating his hands, no smell of melting flesh burned inside his nose, he looked up cautiously.

And instead of bodies and gore and death, Sam stood there, gripping his arm and mouthing a word over and over. The word slowly became an incoherent mumble, then a clear shout.

"Dean!"

Dean snapped back to awareness, shaking his brother off of him. Snow was gently falling from the sky instead of ash, and evergreens swaying gently in the wind replaced the skeletal oaks stretching overhead.

Once Dean had steadied himself, Sam released his grip on him but didn't step away. Concern and fear were written all over his face. "Dean, what the hell was that?"

Instead of answering--since he had no idea how--Dean looked around self-consciously. Jody and the girls were standing just out of hearing range pretending to be inspecting a tree, but there was no sign of anyone else in the area.

_"There was never anyone else. Just you and me, Dean."_

Dean couldn't tell if the voice belonged to Michael or Alastair, then decided he didn't really care.

"I'm fine, Sam." Dean desperately searched for some other excuse, some other explanation, but came up empty.

Sam gave him a look that clearly said _we'll talk about this later,_  but he seemed to be leaving it be for the moment. He turned back to the others. "You guys find one yet?"

Donna gave the tree an exaggerated once-over. "Nope, think we gotta keep looking. Come on, boys!"

The brother's rejoined the others, but Dean noticed that Sam was sticking a little closer to his side. He was too tired to be annoyed. He was already spending all his energy trying to focus on Alex's ridiculous pre-med school story about some kid who tried to steal a kidney on a field trip to the morgue, unwilling to let himself slip again. _God_ , all he seemed to be doing these days was slipping.

At some point Claire declared she had found the perfect tree, and no one cared enough to dispute her on it. Jody called Nick on her cell (she had his contact number for reasons everyone was too scared to ask about), and they waited for him to come pick up the tree. Dean studiously ignored everyone's glances, walking a little ways away to get some air.

Not two minutes later Claire joined him, blind to any and all social cues as usual.

"So..." she said slowly, like she couldn't figure out exactly what she wanted to say next.

Dean just raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to continue. She looked down and chewed her lower lip with her teeth before responding. "What...what happened to you? When you were...gone?"

He schooled his expression and looked away from Claire, gazing toward the road Nick would appear on soon. Dean mentally willed Nick to drive faster. "What do you know?"

"I know something big went down that nobody's talking about, and then you disappeared for half a year. Now here we are, and we're all just pretending everything's fine."

"Isn't it?" Dean challenged.

Claire gave him a hard look. "Dean. I know when something's wrong, okay? We all do." She shook her head in frustration. "Donna and Jody know, but they won't tell me. They still treat me like a kid all the time."

"Do you ever think maybe there's a reason for that?" Dean sighed.

"Oh, yeah. There's always a reason," Claire scoffed.

"Claire--" Dean started, but cut himself off when Nick pulled up in his pickup truck. Dean silently swore to never ask for anything ever again. Or at least not for a few weeks.

Nick brought his chainsaw and soon the tree was cut, loaded, and ready to go. Nick drove back to the cabin and the hunters made their way back on foot.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur for Dean. He knew they'd gotten back to Jody's house because next thing he knew they were in her living room decorating the tree, but he couldn't remember whether he'd driven or not. Or how he'd ended up sitting on the sofa drinking coffee. Hadn't he been here just a few hours ago? Or maybe it was days. He could never tell anymore.

Time fell away again, and he jerked when Jody touched his shoulder, spilling cold coffee everywhere.

"Oh! Sorry Dean, didn't mean to startle you." Jody rushed to help him clean up.  
  
Dean gave her a shaky smile. "Don't worry about it." He rubbed his hands together, trying to conceal how badly they were trembling.

When they were done cleaning up, Jody took his mug from him and nodded towards the dining room. "Dinner's ready if you want to join us."

He cleared his throat. "Thanks, but, uh, I think I'm gonna turn in early."

Jody gave him this sad little smile and said, "Of course." Sam--who had apparently been sitting next to him the whole time--helped him off the couch and they made their way toward the bedroom. Once they arrived in their little safe haven, Sam closed the door with finality. Dean sat on his bed, rubbing his face with his hands.

Sam blew out a breath and sat next to him. "Rough day, huh?"

Dean let his hands fall between his knees. "I'd take hunting monsters over Christmas Eve in Minnesota any day."

Sam laughed softly. "Yeah, well, we all have our strengths." He shifted on the bed, angling himself so he was half-facing Dean. "Dean, what happened back there?"

"You're gonna have to be a little more specific there, Sammy." Dean tried to smirk, but he knew it didn't come across quite right.

"Come on, Dean."

Dean's not-smirk fell away, and he forced his tired body to get up from the heavenly mattress. "I'm going to go take a shower. If you're in the mood for a heart-to-heart, I'm sure Jody'll have 'It's a Wonderful Life' up and running soon."

Sam didn't say anything while Dean made his way over to the bathroom, but he could feel his little brother's worried gaze piercing his back even as he shut the door. Once he was alone, he leaned against the sink and pressed his forehead to the mirror.

Dean eventually stepped into the shower, but even the scalding hot water couldn't rid him of this darkness that seemed to permeate every pore in his body.

He wondered if anything ever would.


	5. All I Want for Christmas is You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how many chapters this is going to end up with, but updates will continue to come once a weekend. This one doesn't have quite as much excitement as some of the others; don't worry, more to come soon! Let me know what you think in the comments.

Sam sat hunched over on Dean's bed, face in his hands. The shower took just a little too long to turn on, to the point where Sam was actually considering kicking the door down until he heard the water running. He knew Dean needed his privacy, but he was making it so damn hard to give it to him.

Every time he got his brother back, every _single_ time, it was like he was starting all over again. Hell, Purgatory, the Mark of Cain... Dean always came out the other side battered, bruised, and broken, but he always trudged on. And Sam always stood by his side, offering a shoulder to lean on that would doubtlessly be ignored, but offering all the same.

Sam tried to convince himself that this time was no different, that Dean would push through like always. But Dean would get this look sometimes, and Sam would half-reach for his gun, his blade, anything, because the look wasn't Dean's. It was Michael's.

Sam could only wonder what was going on in his brother's head when that happened.

A knock sounded at the door, saving him from contemplating that dark thought any further. "Sam? Dean?"

Sam recognized the voice, and cleared his throat before responding. "Come on in, Donna."

The door creaked open and Donna leaned in. "You boys want to join us for dessert? There's some dinner left too if you want it." She gestured at the shut bathroom door. "After Dean's done washing up, I mean."

Sam gave her a watery smile. "Thanks, but I think we're turning early tonight."

Donna nodded, but her forehead creased worriedly. She moved to leave, but then hesitated and turned back around. "Are you sure you don't want anything? Dean seems like he could use a hotdish or two, and you aren't looking too peachy yourself."

Sam smiled slightly at Donna's Minnesotan lingo, despite the seriousness of her observation. "I know, it's just... It's been kinda hard, lately. Trust me, I wanna shove a solid meal down his throat as much as you do, but I gotta let him take things at his own pace too, you know?"

"And what about you, Sam?"

Sam looked down and sighed. "It's been a long day. But I'm okay, Donna. I really am. Just save us some leftovers for tomorrow, yeah?"

Donna smiled warmly. "You betcha. You don't want to miss out on any of Jody's roast ham, now do ya?"

Sam gave her a small laugh. "No, we wouldn't want that."

Donna shut the door behind her, and the silence that settled over the room once she left was broken only by the rhythmic thrumming of the shower. Sam found the quiet left him more tense; it was dangerous for any of them to be alone with their thoughts these days.

Finally the shower turned off, which was when Sam realized that Dean had been in there for at least twenty minutes. Yet another irregularity that Sam could add to the Dean-post-Michael list.

The bathroom door opened, and Dean stood there for a moment, blinking as if he wasn't quite sure where he was. Sam wanted to jump up and help him, but he knew that might only make things worse. Better to sit and wait for Dean to get his bearings.

Dean's gaze eventually sharpened as he focused on Sam, and he walked over and sat on the bed as if he hadn't just been standing in the doorway to the bathroom for at least two minutes. "Shower's all yours."

Sam nodded, but didn't get up. Showering seemed like way too much effort just then, and besides, he had washed up the night before. Or at least he thought he did. It felt like it had been decades since he and Dean had arrived at Jody's place the previous day.

Sam mindlessly went through the motions of changing his clothes and turning off the lights before climbing into the slightly-too-short bed. He knew Dean was already in his bed, laying flat on his back, arms crossed, staring distantly at the ceiling. And damn did Sam want to say something, do something, _anything_ , but he'd already tried that, and one thing he had learned from all these years of getting Dean back was that it wouldn't do any good in some instances. Dean didn't need that right now.

Not after today.

_Sam was walking with the group of hunters, lost in wonder at his surroundings. There was beauty in the simplicity of it; row after row of snow-covered evergreens stretching into the distance, filling the air with the sweet scent of pine. He couldn't remember the last time he and Dean had been to a Christmas tree farm, if it had ever happened._

_He noticed a rare kind of white pine among the other, more common ones and turned to point it out to Dean, half-hoping (okay, completely hoping) that his brother would call him a geek and slap him on the back of the head._

_But Dean wasn't there._

_Sam froze, panic bubbling up inside him. He looked around desperately, searching for any sign of his brother._

_By now the others noticed that Sam had stopped, and it didn't take them long to realize that Dean was missing. Before they could ask Sam about it, the younger Winchester began sprinting back the way they'd come._

_Sam found Dean a few hundred yards back, standing in the middle of the path. His breathing was harsh and his eyes were roving around, unfocused. Sam slowed down once he reached his brother, not wanting to scare him but needing him to come back from wherever he'd gone._

_"Why won't he wake up, mommy?" a small voice asked. Sam spared a glance to see a little boy tugging on his mother's coat, while she gently shushed him and guided him towards his father and sister a few feet away. The family was courteous enough to go find a tree elsewhere, but the little boy looked over his shoulder at Dean, eyes wide._

_Sam ignored them, grabbing his brother's face with his hands. He called Dean's name, over and over again, but he didn't react. He was too far gone. For what seemed like ages, Dean stood there, shifting eyes filled with desperation, fear._

_Hopelessness._

_So Sam stood with him, waiting for any one of his pleas to reach his brother, only to see them fall on deaf ears._

_Finally, after what seemed like hours, Dean jolted back to the present. By then Sam was gripping him by the arms, but he let go when Dean looked a little more aware of his surroundings._

_Sam asked Dean what was going on, how he felt, tried to get him talking, but Dean remained silent. It was as if he was barely hanging on, and **God** , what was Sam supposed to do but give him his space when he needed it?_

_The younger Winchester was relieved when Dean exchanged a few words with Claire--she was obviously worried and confused--but their conversation hadn't given either of them any peace of mind. Claire looked more frustrated than ever, and Dean didn't say another word until they got back to Jody's. He walked through the tree farm in a daze, and neglected to respond even when Sam offered to let him drive. Sam let him be, mostly because he was obviously still **here** , just a little...zoned out. Or that's what Sam told himself, anyway._

_Sam settled his brother on the couch with some coffee that he wouldn't drink, and sat with him as the girls decorated the tree on the other side of the living room. Then Jody had startled Dean, and he had come back to them at last._

Sam lay there in the dark, drifting off as he wondered how much it would take before Dean couldn't come back at all.

* * *

Sam woke up suddenly, unable to explain his conscious state except for a profound feeling of wrongness. He rolled over in bed and switched on his bedside lamp.

He squinted in the sudden light, searching for anything out of place. The salt lines were intact, and everything else appeared exactly how he'd left it. Sam took notice of the clock, which read 2:43. Way too early to be awake, even for him. He shifted into a more comfortable position, turned the light back off, and closed his eyes.

Sam was on the verge of sleep when he heard a muffled groan from the other bed. His eyes shot open, and he was out of bed with the lamp back on before he could even really process what he was doing.

Dean was curled tightly on his side, face pale and taut with phantom pain. His fingers twitched, and he muttered words that Sam couldn't make out. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead as he let out another barely-audible groan.

Sam reached out to shake Dean's shoulder gently, careful to stand so he could quickly escape if Dean came up with a knife.

Contrary to his episode earlier that day, Dean jolted awake as soon as Sam touched him. Sam left his hand on Dean's shoulder as he struggled to even out his breathing.

Eventually Dean batted his hand away and swung his legs over the side of the bed, but made no move to get up. Sam followed his lead and sat down on his own bed, facing Dean.

For once, Sam didn't feel as though Dean was having trouble returning to this place and time. Instead, Dean just looked old, scarred, and very, very tired.

Sam couldn't decide which was worse.

"So...what was it about?" Because Sam wasn't going to ask if Dean wanted to talk about it. He already knew the answer to that question.

Dean shook his head. "Take a guess, Sammy."

Sam bowed his head. How was he supposed to reply to that?

"He, uh... He would leave me in Purgatory, sometimes."

Sam's head snapped up. Dean was bent over, hands clasped in front of him, avoiding looking straight at Sam. Sam didn't say anything; with Dean, he knew the only way to get him to talk was to sit and listen.

"It was...well, it wasn't really the same. No monsters, no...no anybody. And that's where he would put me when he was..." Dean's voice trailed off, and Sam remained quiet, waiting for Dean to continue.

The brothers sat together, the space between them both expectant and comfortable. Sam didn't push; he had a feeling Dean had just shared the very mildest part of his experience with him, but it was something. Right now, he would take any win he could get.

At some point one of them turned the light off, and they silently agreed to return to their respective beds. Despite the sea of questions Sam was left swimming in upon Dean's last words, he found himself drifting off fairly easily.

He would take any win he could get.


	6. Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh this season 14 premiere just came out and it was amazing!! Can't wait for the next episode! I hope this tides everyone over until then ;)
> 
> Also so sorry for the late update, things have been a little hectic lately. I'm a little unsure about this chapter, tell me what you think (especially about Claire's POV)!

Dean's eyes dragged open slowly, and he blinked blearily up at the ceiling. His mind was blissfully blank as he lay there, comfortable and content.

But as the minutes ticked by and he became more and more aware, the sharp edges of his thoughts began to scrape at the walls of his consciousness, making him feel. Making him remember.

God, he needed a drink.

Thing was, he'd tried. He'd been trying to lose himself in an alcohol-induced haze for weeks. But he couldn't, because it didn't feel right. The same way eating didn't feel right.

Dean knew he was a mess. He knew he was sleeping too much or too little, losing weight, and probably in a constant state of dehydration at this point. And however screwed he was physically, his head space was twice as bad. But even if he could bring himself to do anything about it, he didn't know how. He was normally too distracted by the smell of burning souls and flaming skin to dwell on it, anyway. If nothing else, at least that feeling was damn familiar.

Dean managed to force himself into a sitting position with a soft groan. He rubbed his eyes and waited for them to adjust to the room's dim lighting. Sam was still curled up in his bed, snoring softly. Since there was no way he could return to sleep, Dean resolved to move quietly. No reason to wake Sam up when all he'd do was wear himself out trying to help. 

Dean slid out of bed, the cold of the wood floor jolting him from his thoughts. He stumbled over to the window and opened the drapes. It was still mostly dark out, a few rays of sunlight painting the horizon a deep purple. Thick snowflakes drifted lazily from the sky to land gently on the ever-growing blanket of white coating the ground. Strings of Christmas lights created specks of color shining through the snow.

Christmas lights.

When had they arrived at Jody's? The twenty-third? And he was pretty there was at least one full day between then and now, so that meant...

Wow. Christmas.

Dean wasn't completely sure how to feel about that, considering the last Christmas he and Sam had even acknowledged had been the year between his deal and the Pit. Come to think of it, he wasn't even completely sure what they were doing here.

Actually, scratch that. He knew exactly what they were doing here. Sam was well-meaning, but not nearly as subtle as he thought he was.

Dean sighed and drew himself away from the window. If it was Christmas, the least he could do was catch some last minute specials on TV. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was hoping it would distract him, even though he knew it wouldn't--television had seemed grainy and surreal, like distant background noise since he'd been back--but you couldn't blame a guy for trying.

* * *

Claire sat curled up on the sofa, flipping through channels. There was nothing good on, but she couldn't sleep. Not after what Jody and Donna had said.

_"I just... I wish I could do more," Jody said to Donna as she stacked plates in the cabinets. Claire stood outside the kitchen, leaning a little closer to the door than necessary to finish decorating the fireplace mantle._

_"I know, Jodes. Me too. But what are we supposed to do? Those boys have been handling this stuff on their own for years. We gotta trust them to figure it out."_

_"But that's just it, Donna! They do so much for us, the girls, the world, and we just have to let them handle it themselves?"_

_Donna was silent for a moment, and her next words were so quiet that Claire had to step closer to the door to hear them. "What Dean went through--being possessed by an archangel--I don't know about you, but I don't have the slightest clue on what that might be like. So we just gotta be there for them, 'cause that's all we can do."_

_Claire's head was buzzing, and she could barely focus enough to catch what Jody was saying. "I know, I know, you're right, but..." Jody sighed. "Those boys don't deserve this."_

_"Don't I know it," Donna said, sounding much more solemn than usual._

Claire hadn't stuck around after that, abandoning her Christmas decorations and biting her tongue to keep from--she wasn't sure what. Claire ended up barricaded in her room, spending a good forty minutes staring at the web of hunting information she had tacked up on her bulletin board in hopes of clearing her head.

She had heard rumors that some twisted double of Michael was loose on the planet, but she hadn't believed them. She wouldn't have thought to connect hunter gossip with the fact that Dean Winchester was missing.

Claire knew that there was a lot about Sam and Dean she didn't know. They would sometimes get this look in their eyes, like they were remembering something darker than she could imagine. But right now? This was the worst she had ever seen them.

Jody had warned her that Sam and Dean had been having a rough time recently, but she was still excited for their visit. And it had started out okay; they seemed a little strained, especially Dean, but things were relatively normal. Then Dean starting getting worse...or maybe just got too tired to maintain his facade.

Claire didn't know how to handle the broken man she saw underneath.

Dean tried to be strong for them, for her. She knew that. Talking to him hadn't done anything except make her want to tear her hair out, and she wasn't sure what else to do. Maybe they were right. Maybe she couldn't handle this.

But then again, she wasn't sure anyone else could either.

Claire eventually put down the remote after settling on the new remake of "A Christmas Story." It couldn't hurt to project all her frustration onto Ebenezer Scrooge.

It was nearing five in the morning when Claire heard someone shuffling down the hallway. She didn't move her eyes from the TV, not wanting to tip anyone off, but discreetly slipped her hand behind a pillow to grasp the handle of her knife. She relaxed her grip on it when Dean entered the room, wearing flannel pajama pants and an old Led Zeppelin t-shirt.

Dean froze for a moment when he saw her, as if contemplating turning around and pretending he'd never come down here. Claire slid over on the couch and patted the spot next to her, not giving the older hunter a choice. Dean took the offered seat, albeit a little hesitantly. The two sat in silence for a while, both of them unwilling to end the comfortable atmosphere between them.

At some point during the movie, Claire snuck a glance at Dean. She was surprised to notice he was trembling slightly. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, but the position did little to hide the pallor of his face or the way his jaw was clenched.

Claire slowly unfurled herself from her place on the couch, carefully reaching out a hand to rest on Dean's shoulder. He didn't even blink, eyes fixated on the TV. Claire glanced at the screen, wondering what captured the older hunters attention. Her jaw dropped when she saw bodies of the poor littering the streets, victims of Scrooge's greed. Nope. She was never watching the remake again.

Claire leaned over and and snatched the remote from the coffee table as quickly as possible without disturbing Dean, pressing her forefinger firmly over the power button. The TV shut off, leaving the room lit only by the Christmas lights winding around the tree.

Claire hovered worriedly, unsure of what to do in this situation. Come on, think. She struggled to remember what Sam had done in the forest earlier when Dean had...fallen behind, but she couldn't grasp her thoughts long enough the make out the details. Okay, she'd play this one by ear. She'd killed vampires, werewolves, and a freaking cannibal angel. Helping her pseudo father-figure/mentor deal with his crippling trauma and probable panic attack should be no biggie.

Right.

Claire hesitantly grabbed Dean's shoulder again, shaking him a little bit, then harder when that didn't work. "Dean, hey. Please come back."

She stopped for a moment, waiting for a reaction. If anything, his jaw clenched harder.

Claire was at a complete loss. When Dean's trembling started to intensify, she got up. It was time to admit she needed help.

But as soon as Claire stood, a hoarse whisper escaped Dean's lips. She bit her lip before crouching down next to Dean, straining to hear as her curiosity got the best of her.

It took a few moments of trying to decipher the senseless mumbling for Claire to realize it was another language. Maybe Arabic? She shook her head; definitely not what she should be focusing on.

Claire took a deep breath. Sam. She had to get Sam. She cast a final worried glance at Dean before hurrying down the hall toward Sam and Dean's room. Claire paused once she reached the door, uncertain of what to do next. Before she could decide the door swung open, revealing Sam, half-dressed and breathless. He stumbled back a little once he saw her, almost strangling himself with the t-shirt he was trying to put on. It would have been priceless in any other situation.

Sam quickly pulled the shirt the rest of the way over his head and stepped into the hallway to face the younger hunter. "Claire, where's Dean?"

Claire suddenly couldn't find her voice, Sam's desperation forcing her to realize the gravity of the situation. She led Sam to the living room, but hung back in the doorway.

Sam didn't hesitate to approach Dean, dropping to his knees next to his brother. Dean was hunched over on the couch, barely moving except for the quickness of his breath; he wasn't even mumbling anymore. The yellow of the Christmas lights made his face look sallow and gaunt.

Sam grabbed his brother by the upper arms and said something to him that Claire couldn't quite make out; all she could hear was his tone, which was both fierce and pleading.

Claire wasn't sure how long it took, but eventually Dean's eyes began to focus and he eventually murmured replies to Sam's harsh inquiries. Claire felt like an intruder, somehow, like this strangely intimate moment was meant to be private. Once she assured herself that Dean would be alright, she crept away to her room.

Claire closed her bedroom door and leaned up against it, squeezing her eyes shut when they began to water. Dean had always been there for her, even when she thought she didn't need it. But the one time he might have actually needed her? She couldn't do a damn thing. 

She had never felt so useless.

 


	7. It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so this story is officially AU, thanks to the last two episodes. I hope no one minds! Also, my sincerest apologies for the late/irregular updates--it's been pretty hectic. I'll do my best to update when I can. I'm not completely sure, but I think I'm gonna wrap this up in one or two chapters. Anyway, enjoy!

Dean eventually calmed down enough for Sam to tear his attention away from his brother and try to figure out their next move. Claire had left, but that was probably for the best. Sam remembered the look on the young hunter's face when he'd opened his bedroom door to find her hovering nervously in the hall, and he wasn't likely to forget it. He'd run into Claire in some difficult times in her life, but this was the most scared he'd ever seen her. Or close to it, anyway. Besides, Dean wouldn't want her to see him like this.

It must have been maybe a half hour since Claire had led him to Dean, and Sam had moved to sit on the couch next to his brother instead of crouched in front of him. Dean's posture was relaxed now, but he wouldn't look Sam in the eyes. Embarrassed, probably.

Which was absolute bullshit.

"Dean," Sam sighed. "None of us are expecting you to be okay right now. You know that, right?"

Dean sat still for a second, and he gave Sam a look was somehow both vulnerable and defensive. Then he stood up quickly and strode over to the kitchen. "Cmon, Sammy. Since we're eating all Jody's food, the least we can do is make her breakfast."

Sam wasn't sure if there was a record for how many times someone could sigh in a week, but he was pretty sure he'd broken it in the last two days. He pushed himself up for the couch--was that his _knees_ creaking? When did he get so damn old?--and followed his brother into the kitchen.

The next hour or so passed in a flurry of cooking and frying. Sam was unashamed to admit he'd desperately missed Dean's cooking during the last few months. He also realized, on some level, that this was the most active and engaged a Dean had been in anything for weeks. Granted, it could all be a spurred on by guilt at taking advantage of Jody's hospitality, but he chose to have faith in the progress. It was Christmas, after all.

It was around seven when Jody joined them in the kitchen, making herself a cup of coffee before jumping into the culinary melee. Sam and Dean tried to wave her off, but the sheriff wouldn't have it. Apparently she didn't trust them to get everything done properly and, more importantly, not to damage her equipment. Frankly, the fear was well-founded.

The sounds and smells of cooking eventually woke the other members of the household, luring Donna, Alex, and Claire down to the kitchen. Sam watched Claire carefully, but she seemed alright. Worried, and a little nervous, maybe, but otherwise okay.

All six of them sat down to eat breakfast together. It was loud, messy, and strangely...peaceful. Dean still looked strained, but also seemed distracted, content. Sam found himself relaxing more than he had in a long time.

Sam was eyeing Dean's mostly-full plate and debating what sort of subterfuge might get his stubborn ass of a brother to eat more--and wasn't that ironic--when a glass suddenly shattered on the floor. He flinched and jerked his head up in time to catch Alex shooting Claire a dirty look as she moved to clean up the mess.

"Excuse me," Dean muttered. Sam turned in surprise as Dean pushed his chair back and made his way out of the dining room. He didn't leave quickly enough for Sam to miss his chalk-white skin or the too-careful way he was holding himself.

Sam swallowed and returned his gaze to the table. Alex stared out the door guiltily while Jody and Donna got up to clean the glass from the floor. Claire glared at the pile of broken glass like it had personally offended her. The joy and festivity of the scene was gone, replaced with a heavy, strained silence.

Jody, Donna, the girls...they didn't deserve this. And Sam knew it was on him, because he could never blame Dean. Maybe once, long ago, but not anymore. Not after his brother had sacrificed everything for him.

And what was Michael but another sacrifice, guised in the intent of saving the world?

Sam suddenly felt the overwhelming need to remove himself from this atmosphere, so he stood and put his plate away. He didn't realize Jody had followed him until he was elbow-deep in suds.

"Here, Sam, hand me that bowl," Jody insisted as she took the dish, dried it, and stacked it in the cupboard.

They worked in silence for several minutes. Sam found that the methodical task soothed him, helped him work out his thoughts. He knew he couldn't go after Dean right now; there were times when Dean needed a nudge in the right direction, but the truth was, sometimes his older brother had to work things out himself. So the best he could do was help out Jody.

Not that he could ever repay what she or the others were doing for them.

Sam put the last of the dishes on the drying rack and cleared his throat. Jody put down her towel and looked up at him patiently.

Sam leaned back against the counter somewhat self-consciously, looking to the ground before meeting her eyes again. "I'm-I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" She asked, one eyebrow raised.

"You and the others...you do so much for us, and I guess I just wanted a place we could feel a little more normal, for once. But the way Dean is right now...it's hard for you. I can see that. And you don't deserve that, especially not now."

"Sam," Jody scolded gently. "Having you and Dean over is never a burden. You two deserve a normal Christmas more than anyone, and we're all happy to be able to provide that for you. Besides," Jody added, eyes softening. "If you think being here helps Dean, you can both live here as far as I'm concerned."

The corners of Sam's mouth turned up a little. "Thank you."

"Anytime," Jody said with a smile. "How about you go rest, see if Dean needs anything. I'll come get you later."

Sam grinned fully this time. "Yes, ma'am."

* * *

 Patience stepped lightly over a particularly muddy patch of snow on her way to the house. Once she reached the door, she turned to wave at her regular cab driver, Luis. He waved back and drove off.

The young psychic took a deep breath as she faced Jody's door again. Jody had called her to give her a head's up that the Winchesters were there, which she was especially grateful for considering how sensitive her abilities had been recently. Her mentor--a middle aged psychic named Grace--had told her it was a natural side effect of development, but that didn't make it less frustrating.

Once she felt she'd centered herself, Patience rapped on the door. She could faintly make out the low murmur of voices and the shuffling of footsteps before the door swung open. She was just taking a breath to apologize for being late when Donna swept her into a hug.

"It's so good to see you again!" Donna exclaimed.

Patience laughed, even as she inwardly tried to shield herself from the onslaught of genuine happiness the hunter was radiating. Donna always seemed like she was capable of feeling only one emotion at a time. "It hasn't even been a month!"

Donna stepped back and gave Patience's cheek a quick squeeze. "Doesn't matter. We all miss you when you're gone for even a few minutes, dontcha know."

Patience gave her and embarrassed smile and managed to disentangle herself from Donna enough to move into the hallway. Jody immediately met her with a hug of her own.

"She's right. It's good to have you back," Jody said fondly. Patience took a moment to soak in Jody's love, joy, relief--but there was something else there. Worry, and a kind of...sadness. Like misplaced grief.

Patience frowned a little, but covered it up when she went to exchange greetings with Claire and Alex. Unlike Grandma Missouri, it took Patience some actual effort to read minds, so it was generally agreed upon that she shouldn't intrude on private thoughts unless it was absolutely necessary. But she couldn't help reading people's emotions; it was like the feelings just came off of them in waves.

Alex felt how she normally did: stressed, a little annoyed, and with that underlaying level of concern she felt with everyone else, but mostly content. Claire, though...Claire felt kind of like she had when they lost Kaia all those months ago. Only it was less righteous anger, and more anxiety. Something bad had happened, and she blamed herself for it, at least to some degree. Patience didn't have to read her mind to tell that much.

And then the Winchesters joined them.

Patience could feel them coming, like a thundercloud of whirling emotions. They had politely waited for the pseudo family to exchange greetings before they said hello, but Patience didn't feel anymore prepared as the brothers walked into the room.  
  
"Patience. It's been a while," Sam said as he leaned down to give her a hug. It was brief, and she was glad for that. The short reading she did get from Sam was an overwhelming wave of worry and guilt, and even that small glimpse was enough to make her want to break down into tears. She vaguely wondered how Sam was still standing.

Patience would've been curious as to who everyone was so worried about if she hadn't already known.

The first time she'd met Dean Winchester her powers hadn't been as strong, but even then she'd been able to feel him drowning in grief and rage without so much as looking at him. Now...now it was like he was trying to close himself off, even as bits and pieces kept slipping out from under the tight lid he kept on his memories. Every few minutes or so since she'd arrived, Patience had felt a blast of insufferable heat or frigid ice or pure, simple pain. The hunter was keeping a tremulous hold on things, and she would hate to see what would happen if he let go.

Patience and Dean faced each other awkwardly, neither of them willing to so much as extend a hand to shake. Dean because he didn't want her reading his mind, and Patience because she didn't want to read it. She was getting enough from him standing right here, thanks.

Dean rubbed the back of his head, avoiding meeting her eyes. "Good to see you, kid."

She nodded back. "Yeah. Um, you too."

The tense silence stretched on for a few seconds before Jody clapped her hands together. "Well, I'd say it's about time for presents, wouldn't you?"

Everyone murmured their agreement, and the troupe of hunters moved into the living room. Jody went to help Patience get settled in her room. Patience unpacked her luggage methodically, facing away from the sheriff. "What happened to him?" she asked, voice deceptively casual.

Jody sighed and walked around to sit on the bed in front of her. "Dean's been through a lot recently."

Patience raised an eyebrow.

"But I guess you already knew that," Jody said, clasping her hands in her lap. "It can't be easy, with the way your abilities are right now."

Patience shook her head, surprised to find her eyes welling up. "It's horrible. It's like he's trying to press it down, but it keeps leaking out anyways. The pain." She shuddered.

Jody closed her eyes. "We were hoping we could avoid telling you, but I think you need to know. Dean...he was possessed. By an archangel. For months."

Patience almost laughed out loud at first, until she saw the serious expression Jody wore. "You're kidding, right?"

Patience knew about vampires, werewolves, demons, even angels, but she'd never encountered most of them. It had been a year, but some of it was still hard to accept. Especially things like this.

"I wish I was," Jody answered.

Patience took a deep breath, giving herself a moment to wrap her mind around it. "Okay," she said. "What do you need me to do?"

Jody looked confused for a second, but then realization hit her visibly. "Nothing, okay? I won't ask you to do that."

Patience nodded, relieved. As much as she loved helping people, she wasn't sure she was ready for that yet.

When the two of them entered the living room, Patience didn't miss Sam clapping Dean on the shoulder as they moved to sit on the couch. It struck her that being in the same room together couldn't have been easy for Dean either.

They spent the next hour or so exchanging presents, and Patience was pretty happy with the outcome. She'd given Alex tickets to that new band she was always raving about, and in return had gotten some adorable new slippers. Jody seemed especially pleased with the wine she got from the Winchesters, and Donna laughed out loud at the mug Claire got her, labeled "World's Greatest Minnesotan, Dontcha Know?"

Sam and Dean had insisted they didn't want anything, but Jody and Claire had tag teamed to get them identical ugly sweaters anyway. Sam dryly asked where he could return it, and Dean pretended he was gagging, but Patience knew they were both amused.

Eventually there were no gifts left to give, and they tackled the daunting task of cleaning up the living room. Patience joined the girls for eggnog in the kitchen, while Sam and Dean retired to their room. It was only two, but Patience didn't say anything. The brothers had been fairly distracted while they were exchanging gifts, but now everything was starting to creep back, and Patience figured they needed a little time to themselves.

Christmas Day passed quickly. Patience, Claire, and Alex spent a few hours catching up and playing board games until it was time for dinner. Jody and Donna had been working on it for hours, so the girls were practically drooling by the time it was finished.

Sam and Dean joined them for the meal, although Patience noticed Dean didn't eat much. Apparently everyone else did too, because he was receiving a fair amount of glares and a few kicks under the table for good measure. Otherwise, Christmas dinner was as lovely as she'd ever had it. 

Everyone parted ways a few hours later, after dessert and sitting around talking about everything and nothing. It was kind of late, maybe eleven if Patience had to guess, and she was exhausted. Being constantly in touch with everyone's emotions wore her out, and she was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

Patience's dreams--when they weren't visions--were always a little strange. They weren't even really hers. It was like her subconscious was wandering through the house, touching everyone else's dreams and emotions and mixing them all together before dumping them into her head. She rarely remembered the visual aspects of her dream when she woke up in the morning, but sometimes she could still feel it.

Which is why she was fairly certain someone was having a nightmare when she shot up panting and covered in sweat, fear and pain racing through her veins like fire. She closed her eyes and leaned back on her elbows, forcing herself to breath deeply and evenly until she calmed down. Once her heart stopped hammering in her head, Patience heard the low tone of voices out in the hall. She remained still and strained to listen.

"Jody, I'm sorry, but I don't know what to do. He's just not waking up!" a frantic voice whisper-yelled.

"Sam, it's okay. We'll figure it out," Jody soothed. Patience could hear their voices becoming more distant as they moved down the hallway.

Patience stepped quietly out of bed and opened her door carefully to peer out. A beam of light shone into the hall as Jody and Sam slipped inside the brothers' room before disappearing as they closed the door behind them. Patience crept down the hall and stopped in front of the door, waiting.

She heard Jody and Sam whispering again. She couldn't make it out this time, but she didn't have to. Patience knew exactly who they were talking about. The worry she felt from those two was enough to make _her_ worried, and she barely knew the guy.

Suddenly a lance of pain seemed to impale her skull, and she fell to her knees as a shrill whine rang high and loud in her ears. She tried to cover them, but it had no effect. She opened her mouth to scream, when as quickly as it had begun, it was over.

Patience fell forward, catching herself with her hands. She took a moment to recover her breath before making her way to her feet. She couldn't afford to avoid this any longer.

Patience swept into the room and was immediately overwhelmed with the sheer terror that filled the atmosphere. Jody and Sam were holding Dean down on the bed, who was pale and soaked with sweat. Even as Patience watched he twitched and opened his mouth slightly as if to moan, but no noise came out.

Jody and Sam turned their attention to Patience. Jody looked a little surprised, but Sam just looked desperate. Pleading.

No one said a word as Patience stepped up and let her hand hover over Dean's forehead, scrunching her eyes closed as she braced herself.

Then her palm connected with his skin.

And the world exploded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha I'm evil I know! Sorry about the cliffhanger, but not really. Also let me know what you think about Patience's POV, she was weird to write (mostly because we don't really know her that well). My next (and maybe my last, depending on how it all turns out) update will be sometime during the next two weeks...I know it's vague, but I'm going to be really busy and I don't know when I'll finish. Anyway, thanks for reading!


	8. O Come All Ye Faithful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! This was a challenge to write, I definitely had to spend some time searching for inspiration. I hope you like it!

Patience felt like the ground had shattered beneath her feet, leaving her free-falling through a blackness so complete she couldn't see her own hand in front of her face. She fell for what seemed like days. Eventually she thought she could make out little spots of light, like stars in an opaque sky. Patience squinted, desperate to make them out, desperate to be anywhere but plummeting through this endless, consuming darkness.

Time seemed to speed up, and the tiny spots of light grew and grew until she was completely enveloped by brightness. Before she could blink, she was on solid ground again.

Patience clutched her head as she hunched over on her knees, scenery still spinning around her. She lifted her gaze, trying to make sense of Dean Winchester's mind.

The atmosphere gray and muted, skeletal trees towering on every side. Brittle branches stretched up to cover the sky, even as dense foliage crowded every space between the trees. Patience struggled to her feet, looking around for a clue to direct her.

Patience was struck by the realism of being inside another's mind--although she doubted it would stay that way. She'd never gone this deeply before. Grace had warned her not to, that once you were all the way in it was hard to get out. But to be fair, she hadn't really planned this. And now that she was here, she wasn't really sure what to do next.

Patience was saved from having to make a decision by a flash of blinding blue light and a reverberating blast that shook the ground. Once she uncovered her ears and opened her eyes, Patience whipped her head around, searching for the source of the noise. Not even fifty feet from her, a figure lay in a smoking crater in the ground.

Patience wasn't completely sure if she should run towards or away from it. Her instincts screamed at her to get as far away as possible, but she stopped herself. She was inside Dean's mind. Instincts didn't matter here. What did matter was finding Dean and getting both of them back to the surface world. So Patience made her way cautiously toward the crater, positive that she would regret this.

The crater was shallow, and Patience couldn't say she was surprised to find Dean lying unconscious within it. She reached out a tentative hand to rouse him, but jerked back when he bolted up, wide-eyed and pale.

She sat back as Dean hauled himself from the ground and staggered over to a tree. He didn't seem to notice her as he leaned back against it and sank to the ground.

"Dean?" Patience asked hesitantly. There was no reaction.

Patience slowly walked over to sit on the ash-colored dirt next to Dean. He didn't say anything, and Patience somehow got the feeling that this wasn't really the Dean she was looking for, but his presence was better than nothing.

Until the screaming started.

Patience flinched, looking over to find the the older Winchester was no longer sitting next to her. In fact, they were no longer in the forest at all. Instead, they were in an ornate mansion, the ground covered in bodies, Dean Winchester covered in blood. She choked on a scream of her own before her surroundings spun away.

Images and feelings flashed before her eyes, buffeting her senses, each coming and going faster than the one before. Dean hanging from chains in a dark warehouse. Dean standing in a room soaked in blood even as he kept slicing. Dean throwing a match onto one funeral pyre after another. Dean in the midst of fire and pain, unable to tell his screams apart from those around him.

Patience hung on for dear life, overwhelmed by it all. And it was only worse once she realized.

These weren't thoughts or dreams.

They were memories.

Patience barely had time to wrap her mind around that before the images changed.

These memories had a different feel to them. Sharper, fresher, like cuts that hadn't been given the chance to scab over.

At this point, Patience wished she could stop, wished she could turn away, but she found herself unable too. This time, she didn't see Dean anywhere; it was like she was watching what he saw through a small, distant window. She saw even more bodies than she had before, and she wondered how one man could have so much blood on his hands.

That was before she realized how the people were dying.

Patience was overcome by a dawning sense of horror. Even as she watched, a hand stretched out and someone else's life burned out through their eyes. And then there was the torture. God, so much torture. And with each passing scene, came a new voice, echoing in the back of her--Dean's--head. She struggled to block them out, but they persisted, growing louder and louder.

_don't need you_

_already dead_

_oceans of blood_

_want to die_

_killer_

_murderer_

_monster_

_weak_

_"Yes."_

And with that last, resounding word, everything froze.

The window grew until it encompassed her whole vision even as a mirror came into view. Patience didn't dare to move as Dean walked in front of it, only now she knew it wasn't really Dean. He--it--straightened their bow tie and shifted back, admiring their reflection. And then suddenly, Dean _was_ there, breathing hard as he struggled to gain control. And she felt wave after wave of despair, because he couldn't.

_I own you._

And the glass shattered.

* * *

Patience's eyes flew open and she sat up quickly, giving her a head rush. Everything ached and burned as she pushed herself to her feet, and her mouth tasted like charcoal. She'd half expected to find herself back in Jody's house, but instead she seemed to be in someone's bedroom. Someone's very large, gray, sunlight-deprived bedroom. There was one wooden door and no windows. A queen-sized bed took up about a third of the space. Guns were mounted on the walls and loose wrappers and papers decorated the shelves. And then, of course, there was Dean.

Dean sat motionless on the foot of his bed--and Patience knew it was his, knew they were still in his head, because what she way seeing definitely wasn't right.

Dean's skin was glowing. Not everywhere, but in blotches and jagged lines emitting a soft white light in specific spots through his clothes. Small scratches on his wrists, circles like holes adorning his shoulders and sprinkled randomly over his body, large, deliberate marks up and down his arms and legs and back. A strangely familiar symbol on his right forearm. A handprint on one shoulder, and two identical lines on the other. But the worst was his chest, which was so bright it hurt to look at.

Patience was mesmerized, unconsciously reaching out to touch him. She pulled back sharply when he spoke.

"I'm sorry you had to see all this," Dean said, voice gravely and hoarse. He turned to look at her, and Patience gasped.

Dean's face was surprisingly unmarred by any of the white light, but his eyes weren't the deep green she knew them to be. Instead, the pupils were encompassed by blinding white light, differentiated from the rest of his eye only by a thin layer of black.

Suddenly Patience knew what she was seeing. These were the marks of Dean's soul, bore by his mind. Even as she watched, uneven white lines crept along his skin, following his veins. Somehow, Patience felt they were running out of time.

Dean blinked at her, and Patience remembered what he'd said. She nodded shakily, then cleared her throat. "Where are we?"

Dean sighed. "Home, I guess. But I'm also guessing not really, since you just saw..." he trailed off.

Patience nodded again, more confident this time. "I'm-I got in your head. You were having a nightmare, remember?"

Dean squeezed his eyes shut. "I...yeah. Jody's house?"

"Yeah," Patience said, relieved that his memory seemed intact.

"Patience, you didn't have to come here," Dean rasped, looking down to stare at the white crawling slowly across the palms of his hands.

Patience felt a swell of compassion for this broken man who sacrificed so much, yet somehow still didn't believe he deserved the kindness of others. It was humbling, to say the least.

She sat down next to him on the bed. "Yes, I did. They need you up there Dean. Sam needs you."

A small, self-deprecating smile curled the edges of Dean's lips. The look he gave her was full of pain, and sorrow, and... guilt.

Patience grabbed the hand he'd been studying and held it up, forcing him to look at it and her. "Dean, if you let it, whatever happened to you is going to overwhelm you. You need to let it go."

Dean gently pulled his hand back. "I can't," he whispered.

Patience Bit her lip, nodding solemnly. "I can't help you with that. But I can bring you back." Because after the short eternity she'd spent in Dean's head, she knew there was really only one thing that could help him. One person, really.

Sam.

Patience reached up a hesitant hand, and when Dean didn't stop her, placed two fingers on his temple. She closed her eyes and concentrated, furrowing her brow as she tried to dig her way past Dean's thoughts and memories.

Then they were launching through the darkness, only this time they were going up, not down. The darkness slowly cleared away as Sam and Jody's voices emerged and steadily increased in volume.

Patience woke up, and the last thing she saw was Jody's worried face before she passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that was a weird one, let me know what you think! Remember, comments are welcome (and encouraged)! If everything goes as planned, it looks like there’s only one chapter left, so if you have any last minute thoughts or ideas, now’s your chance! Anyway, thanks for reading! :)


	9. We Wish You a Merry Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last one! Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter! It's been such a ride, and I've loved every second of it! A huge thanks to anyone who read (and helped me get over a thousand hits! Woohoo!), especially those who left comments or kudos. This is the biggest fic I've ever written, and I hope you guys love the ending! Its a bit early, but I wish you all a very merry Christmas!

Sam paced anxiously, glancing repeatedly at the bed where Dean lay, feverish and immobile. Patience was kneeling on the ground next to him, two fingers pressed against each temple. Her eyes were squeezed shut in concentration, and every now and then she'd tremble a little, just making Sam's heart beat that much faster.

It had been dark out when Patience had burst into the room, but now the sky was lightening, casting a soft glow across the snow outside. Each minute that passed only deepened the pit of dread in Sam's stomach, and he ran his hands through his hair again. He told himself that it was only a matter of time, that he had to be patient, that Patience knew what she was doing.

And then Dean woke up.

He bolted up in bed, gasping, and Sam was already there next to him. He braced his brother by the shoulders even as Dean held on to Sam desperately, anchoring himself.

"Dean! Dean, hey, you with me?" Sam asked urgently. Dean managed a nod, and Sam bowed his head in relief. Then he reached up and cupped the side of Dean's face with a hand. "No more nightmares, ok?"

Dean let out a half-sob that was probably supposed to be a laugh, and Sam wasn't sure who collapsed against who, only that  things would be better now, _had_ to be better now, because Dean was back and they were together.

It was several minutes before Sam looked up and realized that Jody was cradling an unconscious Patience in her arms while deliberately not looking at them. Sam nodded at the young psychic. "Will she be alright?"  
  
Right on cue, Patience openned her eyes groggily, and Jody helped her sit up. Sam clutched his brother a little harder to his chest, blinking away tears. "Patience," he said softly. Patience looked over, startled at first, and then full of compassion. "Thank you."

Patience nodded, smiling sadly, and Sam wondered what she'd seen in his brother's head. Jody led Patience out of the room, and Sam finally, slowly, disentangled himself from Dean.

Dean appeared to have pulled himself together a little, but his eyes were still red and his lips quivered when he tried to talk. Sam didn't need him to. He knew exactly what his brother was asking.

Sam pulled Dean to his feet and the brothers made their way out to the back porch. Sam grabbed a couple of beers and their coats on the way, silently thanking Jody for the empty halls. He and Dean sat on the steps leading out into the yard, watching the snow drift lazily from the sky.

Neither brother was sure how long they sat out there, shoulders brushing as they collected their thoughts and sipped their beers. Sam felt a peace he hadn't known for a long time.

"Sammy," Dean finally rasped. Sam didn't answer, just looked over and leaned into Dean a little more. Words sometimes fell short, in moments like these.

"I, uh... I'm sorry I've made this so hard, recently. You saved me, and it wasn't fair."

Sam shook his head, smiling softly. _Same old Dean._ "Dean, you could never make me regret being there for you. We've got each other's backs, right?"

"Right," Dean said, offering his own smile. Still empty, but more genuine than Sam had heard it in far too long. But then the quiet was back, more serious this time.

Dean looked down at his hands. "You know, the worst part was...it wasn't even all the stuff he did up here," Dean said, tapping the side of his head. "It was all the stuff he _used_ me for. All the stuff he made me--" Dean swallowed roughly, "made me watch."

Sam watched the snow melt on his gloveless hands, knowing his eyes weren't just watering from the cold. "I know. But, Dean, it's not your fault."

"I could've found another way to stop Lucifer, or-or fought harder to take control..." Dean trailed off, and he closed his eyes in weary resignation.

"Dean, do you honestly think any one of use could've done any better?" Sam asked. His brother's slumped shoulders answered the question for him. "Hey," Sam said, grabbing his brother by the arm. "Listen. No one would've been strong enough to do what you did. Dean, you saved the world! Everything that happened after...that wasn't you, man."

Dean nodded, but still wasn't looking at him. Sam knew his brother would need convincing, and that he had a boatload of other issues to work out along the way, but they would handle it together. Just like always.

"Hey, Sam?"

Sam looked over to meet Dean's eyes. Somehow, they looked a little more hopeful just then. "Yeah?"

"Merry Christmas."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's finally finished! This was loads of fun to write, and I hope you enjoyed it! If you have any requests or ideas for extensions/similar fics, let me know...I'm always open to inspiration!


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